


Maximalistic

by V_Prime



Series: A King's Journey [2]
Category: Dappervolk (Video Game)
Genre: Anal, Anal Sex, Biosuit, Biosuit Vore, Biosuits, By the way all these sexes are happening at the same time, Deepthroating, Getting Envenomed Because Of A Wrastard, Minor Injuries, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other, Serious Injuries, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Vaginal Sex, Vore, also its harmless vore not hard vore, plant vore, transmasc character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26907040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_Prime/pseuds/V_Prime
Summary: More is more.More wounds, more pain, more dick to fill a chasm carved by amnesia.A pity it won't work, but Zuzélan is stubborn enough to die trying.
Series: A King's Journey [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966381
Kudos: 3





	Maximalistic

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place shortly after my story [Golden Retribution](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26852437), but you can understand it properly without reading that one. Enjoy! Comments are appreciated.

As Zuzélan had to take a day to himself to recover from his tryst with Wras, it was with some measure of guilt that he dropped off some healing plants for Pyri—more than usual, to make up for his lack of help for the last two days—and then gathered some fresh, interesting samples for Olievar with his sharp gold eyes. He was still tender and sore, with violet bites and bruises clearly visible on his sparkling blue skin beneath the wet shirt he’d had to wear, because armor was out of the question. He’d already suffered through wearing it (as well as a face mask) to Pyri’s, so as to not worry her, but the pressure on the wounds Wras left hurt like hell and he’d had to leave shortly after and rip the metal off to get away from the agony. Even tying his moderately short, electric blue hair back into a ponytail was somewhat painful, as it pulled at the cuts on his back. 

The damn pirate had some potent venom, at the very least causing major swelling, and at the very worst draining Zuzélan’s magic as his immune system fought off something potentially deadly. He felt exposed while gathering samples for Olie, but thankfully (did he need time to recover too? Zuzélan could only hope) Wras and his crew never showed up. Zuzélan was able to collect a lot of interesting samples to bring back to 9ine and carefully jar, labeling them with the location they were found. 

Because he knew Olievar was less likely to question and worry about any cuts or scrapes he had, Zuzélan elected to keep just his thin t-shirt and shorts on while he wheeled a cart full of specimens into the airlock portion of Olie’s sea dome; the water drained and filtered back out to the ocean, leaving Zuzélan dripping, bedraggled, but still looking elegant despite the plain clothes and bare feet. While he waited for the door to open, he dug his toes into the gritty sand, feeling glad he’d foregone the armor. It was nice not being stuffed in metal… 

The huge door swung inward, bringing with it a rush of blessed fresh air. Zuzélan pushes the cart through the tasteful garden path, towards the stone cabin, and knocked on the door of Olievar’s home. It took a minute for the marine biologist to get to the door, but when they did, Zuzélan smiled at the sight of Olie’s smiling face towering over him. “It’s so good to see you, Zuzélan—I was worried something happened to you.” 

Despite being at least a foot and a half taller than Zuzélan, they couldn’t see much around the cart that was piled with samples just yet, so Zuzélan’s bruises weren’t yet evident. “I’m alright. Sorry for taking so long,” Zuzélan answered, wheeling the cart forward. When he passed Olie, he heard a gasp; Olie must have noticed the swollen bite on his jaw, and Zuzélan felt a little silly to assume his friend wouldn’t have questioned anything now. 

“Something _did_ happen to you! Was it a sea creature? I’m sorry I sent you out to get samples, this is all my fault. Is there anything I can do to help?” Olie was fretting already, exactly what Zuzélan didn’t want with Pyrifera, and he wondered if he should have worn the armor after all. The thin shirt and shorts definitely highlighted the dark purple marks marring the blue. 

“Wras cornered me and we fought. I promise, I’m fine.” Zuzélan wheeled the cart to the side and turned to regard Olie. “A healing salve wouldn’t go amiss, though.” He would allow Olie to fret, if only to alleviate his friend’s anxiety. 

“Of course! I’ll get the most potent salve I have.” Nodding, Olievar rushed to their lab to rifle through cabinets. Zuzélan took the opportunity to sit in one of the curly, kelp-shaped couches in the main room of the cottage and take a look around. 

He noticed that Olie had rearranged the furniture again, and added a new shelf of plants; even though he was partial to gold, Zuzélan enjoyed the soft, pastel orange and lime sorbet colors of his friend’s home. It looked fairly modern in design, with contemporary-looking curled orange and green furniture. The rug at Zuzélan’s feet was soft and plush, a welcome feel to his tender toes. It felt… homey. They liked being here, and they liked being around Olie’s enthusiasm. 

It had only been a few minutes when Olie ran back into the room like there was a fire. “I’ve got my finest salve!” They exclaimed. “Oh, that Wras. If only I had been there to tell him off again…” A frown marring their soft features, Olie knelt beside the couch. “Where does it hurt?” 

Thinking for a moment, wondering if he really should worry his friend even more, Zuzélan made up his mind and told the truth. “Everywhere,” he said. Without Olie needing to ask, he gingerly grabbed the hem of his wet shirt and pulled it up and over his head to reveal the bites, scratches, and swollen violet veins on his battered body. Ignoring Olie’s second gasp (and subsequent blush), he laid down to shimmy out of his shorts and show the rest of his naked form—namely, the bruised and puffy labia between his legs, though the surrounding area on his thighs was just as cut up and swollen. 

“You said you fought!” Olie burst out, a light purple tinge to their blushing blue cheeks. “Not—That doesn’t look like… what _actually_ happened?” 

“I don’t want to get too detailed,” Zuzélan said, covering his blank, pupiless gold eyes with one scratched arm. “Wras trapped me because he wanted to have sex with me, so I turned it into a more enjoyable experience. This is the result—I believe he has some kind of venom, though my magic is keeping it from doing much damage. Does that help?” 

“I… suppose,” Olie said, sounding a touch sad. They began to carefully rub salve on the bruised and broken skin they could see. “I’m sorry that happened. I would think… that you would want something much less violent, no?” 

There was a note of curiosity in their voice, and Zuzélan got the same feeling he did when he heard Olie talking about something close to their heart, something they clearly loved, when they made a new discovery. Plants, marine life, sea creatures… and apparently Zuzélan, now. It was a lot to digest, and he pulled the arm off his face to regard Olie while they were carefully applying the salve to his skin. Finally, he said “Sometimes,” and left it at that. 

“I see. Far be it for me to judge,” they said softly. “Just be careful of Wras... please. For your own sake.” Before Zuzélan could answer this time, Olie changed the subject. “Have I mentioned how jealous I am that you can breathe underwater? Oh, to be a worldhopper,” they said wistfully. 

“Only a dozen times,” Zuzélan said, favoring his friend with a smile, though he didn’t look at them. “I’ve noticed that my magic is different from the other worldhoppers. More… powerful, I suppose. I can do much more, it’s strange. I wish I remembered where I came from.” 

“I can empathize with that,” Olievar said softly. “It’s… hard, to be somewhere you feel you don’t belong.” They moved to rubbing salve on Zuzélan’s labia, trying to be as clinical about it as possible. 

“Why don’t you go back to the surface?” Zuzélan asked. 

“Oh.. this and that,” they avoided answering, but Zuzélan could see them look away, guilty. Their hand moved to spread salve on his thigh instead as a minute of silence passed between the two. Zuzélan didn’t feel awkward about any of it—either the talk they were having, or the fact that his friend was putting goop on his pussy—but Olie clearly did.

Olie looked distracted, rubbing the medicine less efficiently as they seemed to space out. Moving back to his labia, their fingers delved deeper and rubbed his clit for a few seconds, before Olie snatched their hand away. “Oh my Vaer, I’m sor—no!” Olie snapped uncharacteristically, but they were glaring down at their chest, not at Zuzélan.

Zuzélan knew his friend was weird, but this was another thing entirely. Olievar was a respectful person, not anything like Wras; they would not cross the line from clinical to sexual without asking for consent. “Is something wrong?” 

“I—yes and no,” Olie muttered, then glanced back to Zuzélan. “I am so, so sorry, it’s this damn suit—oh, it sounds like I’m making excuses, doesn’t it? I would never molest you, my suit is just—argh!” Olie said, frustrated. “Stop it!” They flicked the plant growing out of the glass dome around their head. “We do not touch without consent!” 

We? Zuzélan waited for Olie’s anger at.. themself? to subside, waiting for an explanation. “I suppose I should tell you—well, Zuzélan, I haven’t been as honest with you as I should have been. I’m a terrible friend.” They looked so guilty, sitting on the floor, sniffling slightly. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while, but the opportunity never… presented itself, until now that is.” 

“You’re not a bad friend,” Zuzélan told them. “I appreciate your company. I haven’t been totally honest with you either, you know. It’s okay to have secrets.” He threw his head back on the couch and stared up at the pastel ceiling to give Olie a chance to recover, then back to his friend. 

Olievar looked like they were going to burst into tears. “Well… I would like to be honest with you. Please, brace yourself.” One of their trembling hands came up to start fiddling with a latch on their glass helmet, then a second one on the other side. Zuzélan expected they were going to pull the helmet off, but instead, they pulled their entire head off, detached from the seanaut suit completely. 

Even for Zuzélan, that was weird. “Are you dead?” 

“As far as I know, no. My vitals are fine… in my head, anyway. I was in an accident and I swear, I must have died, but I saw the shadow of a shark… I believe it was Vaer himself. It’s the only logical conclusion, because I woke up bound to the plant in this suit, and I’m just a head now.” Olievar’s body placed the dome with the head on the couch next to Zuzélan, and they continued their story. 

“I can filter feed through the plant on my head, though I do miss the simple pleasures of regular food… and I also have some sort of connection to the plant inside my suit. It controls my body for me, based on the desires it feels from me.” 

That would explain it well enough. “So you were thinking of having sex with me, and your body reacted?” 

Olievar looked guilty, and refused to make eye contact. “That’s right. I was… admiring you, and have been for some time now. I think you’re beautiful. I suppose… being so close to you while naked gave me an urge. My body thought I wanted to touch you like that and—well, I did, but I would have asked first before doing it. My body is base instinct controlled by me, so it was acting on what it thought I wanted.” 

“Do you want more than sex?” Zuzélan asked. 

He saw Olie blush again. “Erm… no, not really. Relationships are very complex beasts, and I prefer my solitude to the company of another in that particular area.” 

“I see.” Zuzélan stared up at the ceiling again. “That makes sense. For obvious reasons, I don’t want to have sex right now—but that isn’t a no. We can do it when I’m not pumped full of venom.” 

“Oh! Only if you want to, please don’t feel pressured into this—we can talk about it when you are no longer in pain, I want you to get better before we even have that discussion. You can stay here for a few days and I’ll apply medicine as needed—with no wandering fingers, this time.” Olie gave Zuzélan a smile, while their body picked their head back up and began to re-latch it to the suit, forming a whole person again. “Your health is more important to me than any sexual urges I may have. You will receive the utmost care.” 

Though he didn’t voice it, Zuzélan appreciated the way Olievar was approaching this; while he didn’t mind that his friend had just started fingering him out of nowhere, he _was_ in pain, and it was nice to have a say in what happened to his body. 

Zuzélan closed his eyes and allowed Olie to (clinically) apply the salve to the punctures, tears, scratches, and protruding purple-pink veins. For good measure, they even applied it to the violet crescent scars on his chest because one of them seemed to have bled a bit. By the end of it, Zuzélan was asleep on the couch, and Olie left him to rest. 

It took a few more days. Much to Zuzélan’s dismay, Olie got Pyrifera involved, and she fretted in her own special way over the state of him, promising the best plants she had even though Zuzélan insisted she save them for people who needed it. According to her, Zuzélan was a people who needed it. At least he managed to force her to accept payment this time—she felt she didn’t deserve it because she couldn’t provide an antivenom (if only because she didn’t have the equipment), and she only accepted the money when she saw that Zuzélan was exhausted going in circles about it. 

According to Olievar—who had been listening to the gossip in the Reef again while picking up medicine—Wras was looking for Zuzélan, and the news seemed to distress them greatly. They wrung their hands and ranted about Wras for a few minutes, and then a bit more while they applied the new medicine. Zuzélan fell asleep again. 

A little over a week later, the cuts and broken skin were nothing but scar tissue, and the swollen violet veins had disappeared. Olie seemed relieved, and they celebrated with a delicious vegetarian dinner of kelp, spirulina and vegetable smoothie bowls, and pastel cupcakes for dessert. All of it for Zuzélan, while Olievar looked on with a wistful look on their face. He liked meat, but thought it’d be rude to criticize the food after everything his friend had done for him. 

While full on as many plants he could shove in his throat, Zuzélan lounged on the couch in nothing but a pair of shorts while Olie sat on the floor next to him and talked at length about their newest discovery—a (potentially) new species of plants. They even had a notebook splayed on the couch for them both to peruse, full of detailed notes and drawn pictures, with a lot of talk about genetics in that neat handwriting of theirs. 

When they’d both exhausted the topic, it left a silence in the air; Olievar fidgeted with their hands, and then brought up a new one, glancing up at Zuzélan from their seat on the floor. “I think it may be… _prudent_ to tell you some of my quirks, if we’re going to have sex. You can say no,” Olievar told him, almost tripping over the words while their hands gesticulated. “I am aware that it might be too weird for you, and that’s okay. I just don’t want this to affect our friendship in any way.” 

“It’s not going to ruin anything,” Zuzélan reassured them, sitting up on the couch to lean back against it instead. He brought one knee up to rest his chin on “I like weird.” 

Olie blushed and broke eye contact, then cleared their throat. “Well, obviously, I don’t have a body of my own. However, I did mention before that I have a telepathic link to the plant in this suit. That includes things of a sexual nature. If you were to—er, kiss it, for example, I would feel that kiss as though it were my own body.”

“So it’s like an extension of a cock, if you had one,” Zuzélan said bluntly. “Would I be giving what amounts to a blowjob?” 

“Well, yes.” Olievar idly started flipping through pages in their journal, just for something to do with their hands—and for an excuse not to look at Zuzélan. “It has something of a mind of its own, however. If you were to, say, open your legs for it, you would find that you could _also_ derive pleasure from it. It wouldn’t just be me having all the fun, then.” 

“Hmm.” Zuzélan looked at the transparent front of their bodysuit, at the gentle swaying of the pinkish-orange plant inside. It looked relatively harmless—no spikes or thorns, only soft and round shapes. Like thick coral that could undulate like a tentacle. As for size, the plant was roughly the length of Zuzélan’s torso, not too big to handle. He could easily throat one of the fronds at the top, while one at the bottom fucked him; he would just need to be close enough. “Sounds like it could be fun. Want to go find a bed?” 

“Ah, um—my bed is in my lab. Will that bother you?” Olie grimaces, as though they’d just admitted to something embarrassing. “It’s mostly so I can keep an eye on things, even at night…” 

“I don’t see why that would bother me.” Zuzélan shrugged and stood up, off the couch, ready for Olie to lead the way to their lab. They stood up too and led Zuzélan down a hallway, through a metal door and into their lab. 

Everything looked shiny and polished, with colorful specimen jars nearly labeled and stacked on almost every surface. There were even a few tables with glass beakers, swirling liquids, chemicals, and all manner of science equipment. It truly did look like a mad scientist lived here. Olie led Zuzélan past the polished plantasia lab and into an alcove, where there was a moderately-sized bed made up with opalescent white sheets. The knick knacks lined up on the curly, kelpy nightstand and shelves showed Olie’s affinity for collecting (or hoarding) whatever they found underwater. 

It was Zuzélan who shimmied out of his shorts and crawled onto the bed first, then turned around to face Olie while he sat on his haunches. He felt his heels pushing into his own ass, but he patiently waited for Olie to deftly unlatch the helmet from their body and place it on the bedside table—”So I can watch,” they explained, with a blush, and sure enough they were at an angle where they’d be able to see everything. Their seanaut suit climbed onto the bed and flopped down in front of Zuzélan, sitting cross-legged and looking a bit deflated. 

Reaching a hand out, Zuzélan touched the front of the suit and ran his fingers across it. He didn’t know what he expected—glass, probably, because it looked like it should be glass—but the leathery feeling (like a reptile egg, he thought) was not it. 

Even less expected were the lines that began to split the suit and unfurl like the petals of a flower, revealing the swaying plant that was behind the transparent skin. The pieces of the suit disappeared into the tendrils themselves, leaving just a plant behind on the bed with the disk it was rooted in. Zuzélan stood up on his knees so he could lean forward and caress one of the… tentacles, he supposed he should call them, just for lack of a better word. 

The plant reacted by coiling its tendril around Zuzélan’s wrist and tugging him forward. He got the hint and shuffled towards it, keeping his knees on either side of the plant. The disk was some kind of wet foam, which was pleasant enough on his knees—like knee pads, he thought. One of the tentacles near the bottom softly rubbed against his left thigh, leaving a clean wet line. 

He thought it would be slimy, but it honestly just felt like water clinging to his wrist. It had more surface tension than normal water, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Zuzélan leaned forward and licked the thick polyp at the top. It writhed against his tongue, tasting of seawater but not much else; it was only lightly viscous on his tongue, while still slick enough to cling. 

With a mind of its own, the tendril slid to the back of Zuzélan’s throat, down further than any cock could or would go. He lightly gagged while it explored, but Olie’s gasp to his side encouraged him to spread his knees apart wider. An invitation. 

Wasting no time, one thick frond slid from his thigh to his slit, plunging in deep. The slick fluid it was secreting helped it maneuver with no need for lubrication, so that it could curl up in the deepest part of Zuzélan’s pussy. He rocked his hips slightly, and the base of the tentacle pointedly undulated against his clit. It must have looked silly, crooked like a lightning bolt in order to massage Zuzélan’s hot spot, but neither of them cared about appearances at this point. (It was unclear if the plant had _ever_ cared about appearances.) 

With a muffled noise of contentment, Zuzélan deepthroated the stalk like a cock, until he couldn’t breathe anymore. He pulled it roughly out of his throat, choking and spluttering, with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He coughed up more than just spit—a copious amount of whatever fluid the plant secreted—and it slid down his tongue and onto the bed in one long trail. Zuzélan could imagine what he looked like; it wouldn’t be too dissimilar to how he looked after a tryst, with a swollen mouth and violet-rimmed eyes. 

This wasn’t over just because he needed air, though. A second tentacle, much thinner than the other one, snaked beneath his thighs and wriggled into Zuzélan’s tight ass. 

Zuzélan did not like anal. It was messy, painful, and left him feeling dissatisfied. He hadn’t told Olie this, though, and before he could say anything, the tentacle on top had plunged back into his mouth even further than the first time. A fourth tendril sank in beside the one inside his pussy, giving him that satisfaction of being full to the brim that he wanted. The tentacle in his ass didn’t feel _un_ pleasant, so for the most part he didn’t mind it was there. The plant was making up for it with yet another tentacle, this one to more directly massage his clit. 

The “cock” in his throat spasmed and sent a deluge of fluid into his mouth, and the other tendrils that were inside him did the same. It wasn’t warm, but the sensation felt like cum anyway, and Zuzélan found himself cumming on the four tentacles that were spearing him, feeling electrified from his head to his toes (which had curled up in satisfaction). The orgasm ripped through his body and he rode it hard, before his muscles went slack. He was a gooey, wet mess, only made messier when the plant’s tentacles pulled out of his holes one by one. 

When the final tendril was out, Zuzélan sat back on his haunches and gave Olie’s head a tired smile. “That was fun—” he began, but he was interrupted by the feel of something like leather grabbing him. “What the—” 

The plant had wrapped shiny orange “leaves” around him, and while he was still figuring out what they were, it had encased him in those same petals from before. As he was forced into a sort of fetal position inside a “capsule” with the plant, it dawned on him that he was inside the suit now. 

Inconvenient, but not the worst situation he’d been in. Zuzélan glanced around and noted that the transparent window on the outside was almost completely opaque from the inside, leaving him in complete darkness. He heard muffled yelling (must have been Olievar), but could not make out the words. The suit shifted, pitching Zuzélan to the side, but it didn’t open. 

Of course, Zuzélan could easily tear through the suit with a conjured dagger of some sort, but he had the sinking feeling that that would kill his friend, so he opted to wait and see what happened—for now. 

As the suit moved and rolled around, Zuzélan settled against the wall with his knees to his chin, giving the plant more room. It, at least, seemed as satisfied as Zuzélan was, so he supposed he could chalk it up as a success if he survived. Thankfully, the fluid that was practically coating his whole body now didn’t feel any worse than water, so he was decently comfortable inside the suit. 

The suit (and Olievar) must have been walking around now, because amidst the yelling, Zuzélan felt a constant, rhythmic movement. It was pleasant enough, and he found himself drifting off to sleep—waking up off and on, feeling no less comfortable than he did before. 

What felt like a long time later, it occurred to him that the plant’s secretions must be a painkiller. This cramped position would have long since given him wicked joint and back pain, but he just felt a pleasant cooling sensation instead. He fell asleep again, this time waking up with a tentacle squirming its way inside his pussy once more. Relaxing against the wall, he allowed it to bring him to orgasm again before drifted off to sleep once more, tingling all over. 

It had to have been at least a day or two before Zuzélan saw light again. The suit split open and allowed him to crawl onto a bed, covered in clear slime, while a worried Olievar fretted at his bedside. “Oh goodness, thank Vaer you’re alright! I didn’t know it would do that, I’m so sorry, Zuzélan!” They were already thrusting a can of water at Zuzélan, and he popped the tab to drink it, finally feeling his thirst burning his throat. 

When the can was all but empty, he climbed off the bed and stretched his aching limbs, wondering if Olie had a shower. He’d never spent long enough days with his friend to find out... “It’s okay,” he yawned, cracking his back. “I told you, I like weird.”


End file.
